


Ten Cursed Christmas Trees

by thepopeisdope



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepopeisdope/pseuds/thepopeisdope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas finds a Christmas tree in one of the bunker's storage rooms. Except it isn't actually a <i>Christmas</i> tree, but a tree cursed with a blessing of a fertility goddess. Wonderful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Cursed Christmas Trees

**Author's Note:**

> So initially I had wanted this to be much longer in the smut section but... that didn't happen. Why? Who knows. But this is what we got, friends. I might come back and edit it at some point, but maybe not.
> 
> And it's still the 23rd by like, ten minutes in my time zone. Totally counts.

Okay, so maybe Castiel should have done some research on the Christmas tree he found in one of the bunker’s back storage rooms _before_ he moved it into his bedroom. It’s a small thing, only a few feet high, so it wasn’t worth putting out in one of the bunker’s common spaces, and now that he knows what it is, he’s glad he happened to keep it contained.

It has just been so _tempting_ , sitting on some shelf in a back corner, encased in glass. The tree itself is as real as any other, and healthy and alive despite the indeterminable number of decades it was kept in lockdown. At first glance, _that’s_ why Castiel assumed it was put away as it was. A tree enchanted to live forever could hardly be released to civilians, after all.

He knew something was wrong when he started to sweat.

Sure, Cas sweats sometimes. Just as often as the average human, now that he’s graceless. But this? This happened while he was reading in his bed, completely stationary, when not ten minutes previously, he had been bitter about the December chill that seems to always plague his bedroom, regardless of the tampering he does to the thermostat.

By the time his heat flash compelled him to strip down to nothing more than his boxers and a t-shirt, he decided it was worth looking into. The tree, sitting on his desk in the corner, its golden ornaments and tinsel shining under the reflection of his bedroom light, was giving him a weird vibe.

It took only a few minutes of searching through the inventory lists and then cross-referencing those to more informative records to find the explanation he was looking for.

 

**_Item #2187: Tree of Asherah (Commonly Mistaken For: Christmas Tree)_ **

_Status: Cursed_

_Danger Level: 7_

_Fatalities Caused: ~~2~~ 3_

_Cursed in homage to the ancient Middle-Eastern goddess Asherah, contact with and/or continued exposure to the Tree of Asherah “promotes” fertility in males (limit one male under its thrall per 48-hour period). Hormone production increases, additional sperm is produced, refractory period reduced, etc. To increase success of fertility, affected males imprint upon the first person they make eye contact with, thus preventing infidelity. If imprinting is avoided, affected male may deal with his urges as they arise, privately and without danger. If imprinted, affected male must satisfy at least one climax with imprinted-upon person every few hours, or he runs the danger of death by heat stroke-like symptoms. In the latter scenario, it is recommended to spend entire affected time with imprinted-upon person for maximum health and comfort. Effects of the Tree of Asherah last for approximately 24 hours. Unsatisfied desires become deadly within or before the 3 rd hour._

 

Well. Not exactly reassuring.

But again, he’s _really_ glad that the tree’s curse isn’t in a place where it can effect Sam or Dean. Now that he knows, Castiel can get the tree out of his room and back into the storage room where he found it, and spend the next twenty-four hours locked away in his room.

He just… needs to avoid Sam and Dean. No eye contact.

Right. Easy.

Castiel quickly puts his research materials back on the shelves where he had found them, though he removes the page with the Tree of Asherah description and tucks it into the waistband of his boxers where it can’t be seen. When he puts the tree away, he’ll leave the page with it, so as to save anyone else from making his same mistake in the future.

Cas has to be careful to ensure there is evidence that he had conducted his research spree at all. The last thing he needs is for either of the Winchesters to _know_ what kind of situation he has gotten himself into, because if they do, he knows he’ll never hear the end of it. Being irresponsible with the Men of Letters’ cursed objects, just to further his Christmas decorating, and getting hit by what basically amounts to an overpowered aphrodisiac as a result? No part of that _doesn’t_ open him up for years’ worth of harassment and teasing.

He listens closely for any sign of the Winchesters as he makes his way through the bunker back toward his room, fighting against the urge to take his t-shirt off the whole way. It’s starting to itch, and his rising body heat definitely isn’t helping the matter.

Where are Sam and Dean, anyway? He hasn’t spoken to either of them since early in the day, when he had ventured to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and passed Dean on his way out. Dean had said something about going shopping for ingredients to make Christmas dinner, and he had offered to let Cas tag along, but Castiel was preoccupied with his search of the storage rooms, and so politely declined. That was some time ago, though, so Dean very well could be back home by now.

Castiel hasn’t seen Sam since the previous evening, which means he could be anywhere, in the bunker or otherwise. Cas makes sure not to even make a sound as he passes Sam’s bedroom, just to make sure he doesn’t draw any unwanted attention.

It feels like ages before Castiel finally approaches his bedroom, but as he does, he sighs in relief. The tree’s ‘affects’ are already putting him under a serious strain. He’s immensely thankful that, despite the energy he can feel coursing through his veins, making him itch with desire, there’s not yet any… _outward signs_ of his arousal. He hardly knows how he’s going to deal with it arises—literally—being as inexperienced in such matters as he is, but he _really_ doesn’t want to have that apparent of a problem while still technically in a common space.

His thoughts stutter to an abrupt halt.

His bedroom door is open. Had he left it like that?

Well… Probably. He was in a hurry when he left, after all. His focus was on finding out what was wrong with him, not ensuring the privacy of his bedroom in his absence. He must have left it open.

Then he goes through the door and finds Dean standing next to the Tree of Asherah, poking confusedly at the ornaments with his forefinger. Dean doesn’t look up when Cas enters the room, but he must see him freeze out of the corner of his eye, because he starts to talk.

Castiel should turn and leave right now. He really should. But he’s still too surprised by the fact that Dean is in his room in the first place to react properly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to barge in like this, but… Where the hell did you get this tree, man? The ornaments are _glowing_ , do you see this? Is that natural?” Dean turns then, looks directly at Cas. His eyes widen at the state of him, and he takes a half-step forward in concern. “Cas, you alright? You don’t look so hot, buddy.” His nose wrinkles as he continues to look his friend over, but he seems to be fighting a smile. “And what the hell happened to your clothes? Heat flash?”

Castiel can feel the energy building up in his body shift and redirect itself, no longer focusing inward but on _Dean_ instead. He wants to _touch_ Dean, to kiss him and pleasure him and even just _hold him_ , among… other things. _Those_ desires make his skin feel like it’s about to melt off completely.

Cas pinches his eyes closed and fists his hands in his hair, using the pinpricks of pain that race across his scalp to ground himself. He takes a deep breath, then another.

He can do this. He can survive it.

He’ll just have to proposition Dean. Convince his best friend to have sex with him. Castiel. A guy.

Castiel has known Dean for years, and harbored strong affections for him for just as long. He hesitates to call his feelings by their true name, not only because he knows those four letters are a surefire way to scare Dean away, but because he scares _himself_ with them. Once he allows himself to label his feelings freely, he knows he will be lost, cast further down into the pit of unrequited… _affection_.

So maybe he’s thought about pursuing something with Dean before. Maybe he’s woken up in the morning, drenched in sweat and hard between his legs at some vaguely recalled dream about stretches of pale, freckled skin and green eyes.

And… maybe these thoughts aren’t the right ones to be having while he’s trying _not_ to give into the Tree of Asherah’s influence and jump Dean’s bones here and now. The feeling of his cock filling out draws a whimper from his throat, and he pulls at his hair even harder in response.

He never wanted Dean _like this_. He wanted choice and consent and passion, not a literal fuck-or-die scenario.

Suddenly, a hand touches Cas forehead and he gasps, his eyes flying open in surprise. Dean is standing mere inches away from him, looking even more worried than before. The point of contact between them cools Castiel’s overheated skin, if only slightly. He can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch.

“The hell happened to you, Cas?” Dean asks softly, sliding his hand down from Castiel’s forehead to cup his jaw. “You’re burning up. How did you get sick?”

Dean’s hand on his face is quickly breaking down Cas’ self-control, and with every passing second the desire to literally throw himself at Dean feels more and more reasonable. It would be so _easy_ , to just pull Dean against him, to crush their mouths together and bask in the cool relief he knows it will bring to his fevered body.

_No_. He needs to at least _try_ to explain his situation to Dean first, because if he lets himself fall under the thrall of the Tree of Asherah without cluing Dean in, the man is likely to be disgusted by his advances and leave.

Castiel may wish he could have sex with Dean under better circumstances, but the misfortune of this scenario doesn’t keep him from wanting it at all. He would really prefer Dean not leave just yet.

He doesn’t want to die. Not like this.

It takes far more effort than it should to work through the fog descending over his mind and find the words he needs. “I messed up,” he says first, because it seems prudent to establish to Dean that he _knows_ this is all his own fault. “I found that tree in one of the storage rooms, and then I started to feel weird and I thought that _it_ was the cause, so I went and looked it up—”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean interrupts sharply, now putting a hand on either of Cas’ shoulders to steady him. “Calm down for a second and _breathe_ , alright? Tell me what the tree is.”

Castiel hadn’t noticed how panicked he had become until Dean brought him back down, but he’s practically hyperventilating. His heart beats wildly in his chest, and he has no way of discerning how much that’s caused by his overwhelming fear of Dean’s inevitable reaction, and how much is simply a response to Dean’s proximity.

Regardless, he doesn’t trust himself enough to keep speaking. He remembers taking the page from the inventory checklist, and now takes it from his waistband and passes it wordlessly to Dean.

Dean frowns, but takes the folded piece of paper anyway and begins reading its contents. Cas watches the myriad of emotions that cross his face for the first few seconds, then finally closes his eyes again, unwilling to see the disgust he is sure to earn once Dean realizes what kind of role he is now being asked to play in this. Dean will either be revolted, just give him his final death sentence and walk away, or push that aside and give him some sort of pity fuck. Castiel isn’t sure which is worse, and he _doesn’t want either_.

Emotionally, Castiel feels like he is going to implode. He’s _ex_ ploded before, but never _im_ ploded. He imagines this is what it must feel like, to have everything cave in and crush the life out of you.

But physically? His body is still relishing how _close_ Dean is, begging Cas to reach out and claim him, to satisfy the heat in his veins. His cock is painfully hard and leaking steadily in his boxers, both factors of this embarrassingly obvious in his state of undress. It aches to be touched in some way, but Castiel can’t do that. Not yet, not here. Not if Dean is going to reject him and leave him for dead anyway.

He fists his hands at his sides, digging his nails into his palms to give himself something else to focus on.

Dean must read the paper several times over, because a long time seems to pass before he clears his throat and speaks. “Cas. Can you look at me?”

Castiel shakes his head, closes his eyes tighter. He thinks he might cry, if he looks at Dean.

_Damn human emotions_.

Dean sighs quietly, and Cas thinks he hears him fold the paper back in half and set it aside. He can’t be sure, though, and isn’t willing to look. “Cas, I’m not going to let you die. You know that, right?”

Castiel’s breath catches in his throat. The possibility of crying suddenly makes itself known again, and his voice is rougher than usual when he asks, “Why?”

“ _Why_?” Dean parrots, sounding incredulous. “Cas, you can’t seriously be asking me _why_ I’m not sitting by and letting you literally boil to death in your own skin. Besides, if I hadn’t been in here, you wouldn’t have _imprinted_ on me, or whatever the hell, and you wouldn’t be stuck with me right now. I get that this isn’t something you’re comfortable with, and I’m sorry, but I can’t really give you a choice.”

Wait. What?

Castiel finally opens his eyes to stare at Dean in surprise, and repeats just that. “Wait, what?”

Dean shifts his weight and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. He stares over Cas’ shoulder as he explains, “I, uh. I get that I’m not exactly your _type_ , man, what with me being—you know— _me_. I’ll make it as painless as you as possible, though, I promise. Hell, you can even try to pretend I’m someone else, if that’s what it takes. But no matter what, I’m not letting you die.”

Castiel… isn’t following. “Why do you think I would be uncomfortable having sex with you?”

Dean blinks. “Why would you not be? You’re into chicks.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“I…” Dean makes a face. “Are you not?”

Castiel is completely baffled. How are he and Dean seeing this so differently? “Dean, the problem is that this isn’t something that I want to force on _you_ , not the reverse. I know this isn’t something you would want to help me with, so there is no need for you to try to make me feel _better_ about guilting you into having sex with me.”

Something in that makes Dean’s eyes widen, and a small smile spreads across his face. “Maybe I should ask a clarifying question. If it weren’t for this tree bullshit, would you ever want to have sex with me? Voluntarily?”

Castiel suddenly can’t look at him again and has to avert his gaze. He nods once, forcing his nails into his palms with even more force. His dick gives a traitorous twitch at the images that are automatically conjured up in his mind in response to the question.

Dean steps into Cas’ space, and puts a hand back on his shoulder. He tucks the fingers of his other hand under Castiel’s chin, gently angling his head up and forcing him to meet his eyes. “And I would do the same.”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “Dean, you—”

Then Dean cuts him off with a kiss, and with the press of their lips, something inside of Castiel _snaps_.

In a matter of seconds, Cas has his hands buried in Dean’s hair and is licking his way into his best friend’s mouth with a level of expertise that he doesn’t think truly belongs to him. Dean lets out a soft moan of surprise, which only serves to fuel Castiel further. He guides the other man backwards until his knees hit the back of the bed, leaving him no choice but to fall onto it. Cas immediately crawls over Dean to straddle his lap, wasting no time at all before reclaiming Dean’s mouth. They separate for only a brief second while Castiel tears Dean’s layers of shirts off over his head, then get right back to business.

Everywhere they touch is like a salve for the curse running through Castiel, making him feel less and less like he is going to catch fire at any moment. Dean’s tongue feels almost cold against his own, but Castiel is unsure whether this is he’s truly running that high of a temperature himself already, or if it’s a psychological effect of the curse, making him crave Dean even more than he already does.

To be honest, he finds he doesn’t really mind either way.

Eventually, Dean has to put a hold on their making out in order to catch his breath, and leans back a few inches to accomplish this. He doesn’t indicate for Castiel to stop in any way, though, so Cas merely relocates his mouth down to Dean’s pulse point and continues his work. Dean gasps when there’s a slight graze of his teeth over the sensitive skin, but doesn’t object to the bruise that is steadily being formed.

While Castiel is distracted by the creation of his first ever hickey, Dean locks his hands onto Cas’ hips and grinds up into him, rubbing their cocks together as well as their current position will allow. The friction of it sends Castiel’s thoughts skittering in every direction. He lets off of Dean’s neck, absently brushing his thumb over the dark mark he left behind, and rolls his own hips down against Dean in an attempt to replicate what he had just done. It feels wonderful, a whole new type of heat sparking through his core, but he knows it could be better still.

They’ve somehow managed to move themselves to be sitting in about the center of Castiel’s bed, upright and completely wrapped around each other. Castiel presses himself further into Dean’s lap, at the same time that he pushes the other man back by his shoulders to force him to lie down. Cas’ legs are still on either side of Dean’s hips, and he uses the leverage the new angle provides him to slot himself against Dean perfectly, rubbing the base of his cock over Dean’s over and over again, both of them getting lost in the sensation.

That is, until Castiel’s blood starts to boil again, and suddenly this _isn’t enough_. He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat—which earns him a worried look from Dean, not surprisingly—and rolls off of Dean with the kind of speed he hasn’t had since he was an angel.

That gets him another strange look. He ignores it, as he did the first.

Once he’s no longer pinning Dean against the bed, Cas has a better angle than he would have had previously to undo Dean’s belt and remove his pants. He strips Dean bare in only a few moments, his hands quick and efficient, no doubt guided by the influence of the Tree.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the glow of its decorations pulse as though in affirmation. The ornaments and tinsel alike are shining brightly now, lit by the same energy Castiel can feel in his bones, burning its way through him.

He casts away all thoughts of the Tree after that, and focuses back in on Dean. He’s completely naked on the bed, and looking nervous for it. His dick is hard and flushed where it falls against his stomach, providing one of the most enticing images Castiel has ever seen in all his long years of existence. The ball of energy inside of him ramps up a few more notches, making it almost impossible for Castiel to think of anything beyond his need to touch Dean _right now_.

Cas takes off his own boxers and shirt and climbs back into the bed, automatically swinging a leg across Dean’s waist to resume straddling him. Before he can reestablish their earlier grinding, however, Dean suddenly takes hold of Castiel’s hips and flips them both other, putting Castiel against the bed and Dean on top.

But when Castiel expects Dean to then take the lead on their movements, he _doesn’t_ , and that frustrates Castiel more than he can rightfully articulate in this moment. He bucks up against Dean in hopes of compelling him onward, but other than a brief brushing of their cocks, it accomplishes nothing. Dean has a tight hold on his wrists to keep him down, and his weight is settled too heavily across Cas’ middle.

“Dean, what the fuck—”

“Cas! Can you just listen to me for five goddamn seconds?”

Castiel pauses, but probably not for the reason Dean wants. Has he been talking this whole time? How had Castiel not noticed? He sees Dean’s lips continuing to move, and tries to force himself to focus on the sounds they are forming.

“…you’re not thinking straight!” Dean is saying, and rather angrily, too.

Why is he so angry? They shouldn’t be fighting. They should be kissing. Or fucking. Preferably the latter. That sounds rather pleasant, actually. Cas has a feeling that burying himself in Dean’s ass would soothe the fire that is slowly consuming him.

Castiel doesn’t have many options for how to show this to Dean, so he does what he can and cranes his neck to start kissing at the inside of Dean’s wrist, the only part of him he can reach. But instead of allowing it, Dean jerks his arm out of Castiel’s reach in surprise, taking the hand he has pinned along with it.

Castiel frowns up at him, tugging weakly on the holds on his wrists. “ _Dean_. It _hurts_.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m not holding onto you tightly enough to hurt, Cas. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“ _No_.” Cas tugs on his wrists again, not because being held down bothers him—in fact it kind of turns him on even more, if that’s at all possible—but because he doesn’t want Dean to think he’s just giving in. He explains his complaint as best he can. “Dean, it’s _burning_. Just make it _stop_.”

Dean’s expression crumples for a fraction of a second, and then hardens with resolve. He presses Castiel’s wrists into the bed just a bit harder and says, “Don’t move,” before abruptly letting go and sliding down Cas’ body toward his groin.

Cas props himself up on his elbows to stare down at him. “What are you—”

Dean just winks and seals his lips around the tip of Castiel’s dick, and anything else Castiel may have said evaporates. His arms give out from under him and he falls back to the bed, simultaneously arching his hips up into Dean’s mouth. Dean quickly prevents him from moving too much, shifting his weight to pin Castiel’s lower body to the bed, but that in no way lessens Cas’ satisfaction. He fists his hands in the sheets for lack of anything better to do with them.

He’s never had a blowjob before. Well, he’s never done _any_ of this, but the blowjob is particularly relevant right now. He’s seen them done, knows how they work in general terms, but not even in his dreams had he imagined it would feel like _this_.

_This_ , of course, being the tight suction around his length, the mesmerizing movement of Dean’s tongue tracing him with every bob of his head, the occasional plunge further back into the softness of Dean’s throat. And all of that, of course, is in addition to the sweet relief that seeps through Castiel’s body like drops of cold water. Dean’s mouth feels even colder around his flesh than it had when they were making out, and the contrasting temperature feels exquisite.

Dean, for his part, works Castiel with a skill that makes Cas wonder if _he_ isn’t being affected by the Tree of Asherah as well. He continues to lick and suck over Castiel’s cock, and fists his hand over what doesn’t fit past his lips. The heat in Castiel’s gut, that _other_ heat, builds all the while, and once Dean brings his other hand into play, tracing over the skin of Castiel’s balls and down to his perineum, that heat finally reaches its breaking point.

Castiel’s entire body goes tense as he comes, spilling messily into Dean’s mouth. Most of the liquid seems to be swallowed, but at least some of it dribbles down Dean’s chin and drips onto Cas’ own stomach.

The sight of Dean sitting there, still hovering over Castiel’s spent cock and now bearing at least a small amount of his semen on his skin, makes Cas feel lightheaded with giddiness. He bolts upright and hauls Dean to him for a bruising kiss, taking the chance to lick his come off of Dean’s chin while he is there. The swipe of his tongue draws a low moan from Dean, which in turn has Castiel smiling against his mouth.

Cas scoots closer to Dean and drops a hand to the other man’s still-hard cock. He doesn’t have a lot of finesse as he jacks Dean off, the Tree of Asherah’s influence having receded for the moment, but it still only takes a few pumps of his hand for Dean to reach his climax and come across Castiel’s fist.

Once Dean is sated at well, the two of them collapse together against the bed, pressed together everywhere they can manage. Castiel can feel the Tree’s thrall still heating his veins, but it’s less of a painful burn now, more of a distant warmth. He buries his face in Dean’s chest for the time being, more than happy to just bask in Dean’s presence while his break lasts.

After a moment, Dean starts to comb his fingers through Castiel’s hair and asks quietly, “Cas, you still with me?”

Cas’ eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but he nods against the other man’s chest. He considers forming a verbal response as well, but a yawn works its way out of his chest instead, so he lets it be.

Dean huffs a laugh. His hand never ceases its movements. “Were you aware of anything that I said earlier? Before I… y’know. Sucked you off?”

Castiel shifts his head on Dean’s chest to look up at him. “Not really, no,” he confesses. “Why? What did you say?”

There’s a beat of silence before Dean answers. “You scared the shit out of me, Cas,” he whispers, staring up at the ceiling. “You stared at that goddamn Christmas tree for fucking _ever_ , and then once you finally snapped out of _that_ you were all weird and disjointed. Your skin was so hot I honestly thought it would burn me. Cas, I… I thought you were going to die, man. So I got you off as fast as I could.”

Castiel’s heart constricts in his chest, and it takes no thought at all for him to crawl up Dean’s body and kiss him, soft and sweet. Dean relaxes beneath Cas and lazily returns the kiss for a few moments before drawing back again. Cas takes that as his cue to settle back over Dean’s chest, which he does without hesitation. Once he’s back in place, he whispers, not trusting his voice to go higher, “Thank you for saving my life, then. I don’t want to leave you, Dean. I won’t, if I can help it.”

Dean scoffs, but Castiel can hear the emotions it is intended to mask. “Hey, well in terms of saving lives, I think a blowjob is about the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. And now I just have to, what, have marathon sex for the next twenty-four hours? I think I can handle that.”

He doesn’t acknowledge the latter part of Castiel’s statement, but Cas doesn’t need him to. He knows he was heard anyway. If Dean isn’t ready to talk about the _feelings_ side of things yet, Castiel can handle that.

So Castiel replies just as lightly, “I like the sound of marathon sex. We can rest for a bit, though. I think I have some time before the effects of the curse kick back in.”

Dean hums lightly in response, and scratches his fingers across the back of Cas’ head. “Yeah, I know. Let me know when it gets bad again, alright?” His words start to slur as they go, growing heavier on his tongue as he starts to fall asleep. “I’m not losing you to a fucking Christmas tree, of all things.”

Castiel smiles, and presses a kiss to Dean’s chest. “I know, Dean. You won’t. I’ll wake you when I need you.”

Dean nods, but Castiel doesn’t think he truly heard him. The hand in Cas’ hair makes one last sweep, and then Dean mumbles out a pair of syllables that sound suspiciously like “Love you,” before completely succumbing to sleep.

Castiel’s heart beats a little faster, and he can’t stop himself from whispering back, “Love you, too.”

Maybe this whole Tree of Asherah mess isn’t so bad, after all.

And the marathon sex? _Definitely_ not bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://thursdays-fallen-angel.tumblr.com/)!


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